Breaking Point
by Irena K
Summary: An alternate ending to the episode Crush.


She found him sitting by a headstone, back leaning against it, arms resting comfortably on his knees

Disclaimer: They belong to the crack god, Joss. All hail His Almighty, um…Somethingness!

Author's note First posted Buffy fic, I know you're all excited. And, yes, I'm lazy. And have a serious love/hate relationship with the episode "Crush." On the one hand – it didn't become fanfic. On the other – I happen to like fanfic. Ah well, kind of a moot point now with that season finale hanging over our heads. The piece is a little angsty, a little bit experimental. Constructive criticism wanted and encouraged.

Rate PG, just in case.

BREAKING POINT

She found him sitting by a headstone, back leaning against it, arms resting comfortably on his knees. A half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels dangled from one hand and he didn't look up as she approached. She stood staring down on him for a brief moment, a cold numbness spreading throughout her body. She felt…nothing. Not even pity. Yet she stayed where she was, arms crossed, head tilted at a slight angle looking at this curious, complicated man.

No, she corrected herself. Not man. Vampire.

"Spike," she greeted evenly.

He looked up, eyes slightly unfocused. He grunted an acknowledgement then went back to working on his drink. She toed an already empty bottle of scotch that lay on the grass beside him and wondered if it was possible for a vampire to get sick from alcohol poisoning. Whether it was or wasn't, Spike was well on his way to testing that theory. She wondered whether she should stay but she reminded herself that this was Spike and the sooner she left, the better.

Nonetheless, her feet remained where they were and she found herself opening her mouth. "We need to talk."

When he looked at her, his expression was openly hostile, his voice cold. "I've said all I needed to say to you."

Lips thinning into a narrow, white line, she nodded curtly. "Fine." She whirled around and walked stiffly back where she came, hands balled into fists. Served her right for even approaching him in the first place. Besides, she had patrol this evening and certainly didn't need to spend her time talking to some two-bit, neutered vampire whom she didn't like very much anyway.

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Just like he wants you to a little voice in her head spoke up.

She stopped in mid-stride. Damnit, he was doing it again, getting her to do exactly what he wanted her to and making it look like her own idea. She glanced back at the solitary figure. He was concentrating solely on drinking himself into oblivion and didn't seem to see her hesitation. She should leave. Go. Never think about him at all. Just

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watch in disgust as he yelled at her, at Druscilla, acting as if he were the injured party. Like he didn't have her chained up to a wall, forced to listen to his tirade on her in particular and woman in general. What was she supposed to do, feel sorry him? Yeah, right. Should've thought about that before he had gone all stalker on her. What she needed was a distraction and enough force to get out of those chains.

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Which was just about when Harmony hit Spike with the arrow.

Right. Who the hell did he think he was anyway?

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The guy who can push all your buttons the irritating voice piped up. _Does a good job of it too_.

Damn.

She strode back over to him and cleared her throat, catching his attention. He just glared at her. "Weren't you leaving?"

"No, I was talking to you," she answered, making sure to keep her voice neutral. The last thing she needed was for him to get any ideas.

He frowned. "So, you're staying."

"Yes."

"Fine. Then *I'm* leaving." He rose unsteadily to his feet, bottle clutched tightly to his chest, his own special brand of life preserver. He turned and started to totter off, swaying unevenly from side to side. It didn't take much effort for her to catch up and block his path.

"We are going to talk," she told him sternly. "Whether you like it or not."

"Or what?" His smile was bitter. "You're gonna hit me? Beat me up? Hell," he held his arms out exposing his chest. "Go ahead. Stake me. Put me out of your misery."

"No," she shook her head. "We're not playing that game anymore."

He laughed but it was hollow, without any trace of humor. "Oh really? Then what *have* we been doing for the last year and a half? I always thought you liked me as your human punching bag."

"You're not human."

"Well, so glad you noticed," he answered darkly, leaning in uncomfortably close, smelling of alcohol and stale cigarettes. "What's stopping you anyway? We both know it's not because you care about me. Just felt the need to have someone to beat on whenever life got your knickers in a twist?"

She closed her eyes and counted to ten, reigning in her temper. She was determined to have a real conversation for once, even if it killed her. "Are you purposely trying to bait me?"

"Maybe." His shoulder rose fractionally, his eyes bearing into hers, never wavering. "C'mon, Slayer. Stake me. Do us both a favor. You'll feel better."

She was sorely tempted to take him up on his offer but

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Harmony and Spike were struggling on the floor, the crossbow getting tossed around between them. She began pulling on her chains, feeling the slow give as the old wall started to crumble under her strength. But she was too focused on her own activities to notice Dru wiggle out of her bonds. The first punch came as a complete surprise.

"I probably would," she conceded. "Then again, I want to figure you out and it's tough to do that when you're dead."

He blinked in surprise then actually grinned at her, amusement traveling ever so briefly across his features. "Oh. Ah-heh, that's funny, Slayer. You've got a very keen sense of humor."

He chuckled and stepped around her, obviously intent on dismissing her. She grabbed his arm as he passed, digging her fingers in enough to make him wince. "It's not a joke. I want to know why you…think you feel about me the way you do."

He shook his head, all mirth vanishing as abruptly as it appeared. He wrestled his arm away from her and stepped back, eyes suddenly glinting with a very dangerous light. "Any reason you couldn't have gotten this curious *before* last night?"

"You should have told me," she answered quietly. "You should have come clean and gone away and-" 

"And what?" He shook his head and turned his back on her, head tilted, staring off into the expanse of stars above them. "I told you the truth. And look where that's gotten me."

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She had fought in compromising positions before but fending off an insane vampire while chained to a stone wall was one of the more difficult tasks she had to face. As Druscilla continued to pound in her face, she used her small amount of slack to slid back and launch her feet at Dru's torso. The vampiress stumbled back, caught off guard and off-balance. Buffy used the momentary reprieve to catch her breath and ready another kick if necessary. She was vaguely aware of Spike and Harmony still fighting in her peripheral vision but Dru came at her again and she had no more time to worry about them.

Was that a tremor in his voice? She didn't want to think about that – crying was something only humans were supposed to do. To think that this…this monster was sitting here and sobbing was simply something she could not, would not accept.

And yet, there was something almost like sympathy tugging at her heart when she looked at him.

"What do you want from me?" She wasn't sure she would get an answer but he did face her again. What she saw there was something she had noticed in few vampires before. Angel had it, when he was thinking about something from his past, sorting through years of memory that eventually all ran together. The Master had had it too, when she saw his leering face terrifyingly close for one brief moment before he killed her. The weight of centuries. 

Young as he was for his kind, Spike possessed it, the knowledge gained from witnessing too much, from knowing the inevitability of the human condition. She often forgot how old most of the vampires she fought were, forgot that many of them had survived hundreds of years before she came along and, in all likely hood, many would live long after she was dead and dust in the earth.

Including, much as she hated to admit it, the one in front of her. Not unless she really did break down and stake him right at that moment. But she suspected they both knew that wasn't going to happen.

"What do I want?" he threw the question back at her. "C'mon, love. You know what I want. You've always known."

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One chain finally broke free of the wall, allowing her some more room to maneuver. But her left arm was still pinned and Dru was hardly one not to take advantage of a foe's weakness. Despite the steps she managed to avoid and punches she blocked, Dru was clearly wearing her down. Nails scratched down her face, momentarily blinding her. She flailed out with her free arm, but it was easily blocked and a fist was thrown sharply into her sternum, knocking the wind out of her. Gasping, she tried to regain her balance and blink the blood out of her eyes, focusing back on the fight. A hand wrapped itself around her throat and everything was suddenly thrown into sharp relief. Oddly enough, as Dru's vampire visage loomed closer, ready to strike, all she could think was that of all the ways to die, this was one of the stupidest.

She wasn't sure who was more shocked at the stake that suddenly appeared in the vampiress' chest, her or Druscilla.

"No, no, I don't, I can't," she shook her head, averting her gaze. His hand reached out and she hated herself for flinching away but couldn't help the response. That didn't stop him as he gently grasped her chin and forced her to look at him.

"The least you owe me," he told her. "Is to say it out loud."

He stared unblinking into her eyes, the years he lived hanging heavy between them. She saw the last dying flicker of hope, a belief that somehow things would still work out. But as the age was there so was the acceptance of what he already knew was true.

"I don't love you," she said. "I never will."

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Druscilla collapsed into a pile of ashes and for a brief moment Buffy and Spike were left to stare at each other over her remains. Spike looked down at his hand and, in something resembling horror, stared at the wooden arrow that had just ended his sire's life. He dropped it to the floor as though scalded, eyes wide and possibly even a little frightened. Trembling, he dug a key out of his pocket and unlocked the remaining chain on Buffy's wrist. She stepped away from him and rubbed the raw spot on her arm, her cheeks and forehead stinging with the damage Druscilla's nails had wrought upon them. There was no sign of Harmony and she didn't know whether Spike had killed her or if she had simply run off.

"Go," he said hoarsely. She almost objected on general principal but one look at the expression on his face and she closed her mouth. She doubted he would be listening anyway. Without another word, she left.

He nodded and dropped his hand, eyes finally releasing her. He stepped back and drank deeply from the Jack Daniel's. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he said, "So that's it, then."

"Yes." She hesitated, then asked because she knew could no longer *not* know, "Why did you do it?"

"Why do you care?" he asked again.

"Because you owe me, too."

He frowned and looked once more to the stars, as if they could somehow give him the answers he needed. He sighed. "I don't know."

"You killed her," she said in disbelief. "You said you loved her and then you killed her. How can you not know?"

"Because I don't." Once, he may have turned on her in anger but the fight had simply left him. "I tried to make it a choice between the two of you and when it came right down to it…there wasn't one. I didn't even think about it." He chuckled softly, sadly. "That's the bugger all, innit? I didn't think about it, I just did it. And when the dust cleared, there was my choice all along."

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That's where the tragedy in all this is, she thought suddenly. He gave everything he had and it still wasn't enough. Because it meant nothing to her, because she could simply not return his feelings, because there was never any hope for them in the first place. At that point, she really did pity Spike because she knew love shouldn't be that way, not for her, not even for poor, twisted bastards like him.

"I'm sorry." And she meant what she said.

He shrugged and turned a bitter smile on her. "Everyone is. But you can't control who you love, can you?"

He glanced back to the stars and Buffy wondered what he saw there but never asked. He finally walked away from her, the last shreds of his dignity lying in tatters at her feet, and this time, she let him go.

END


End file.
